


Polaroid

by Rachel_Lu



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, I Love You, Love Confessions, Pictures, Sharing a Bed, taking pictures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7108573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Lu/pseuds/Rachel_Lu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" It was a simple picture of her on her side, her hair splayed out on the pillow, mascara she hadn't caught the night before flaking down her cheeks.  It was, she supposed, the natural light and the natural look of her that drew him, but the way her lips were slightly parted and her chin tilted made her wrinkle her nose. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polaroid

**Author's Note:**

> Is this a drabble? I don't know I've never done one, but here's a thing

She woke up to the click of a camera shuttering through her closed eyelids.  She wrinkled her nose and rolled over in bed, away from the Doctor, who had made a sound of glee.  The unmistakable flapping of a Polaroid met her ears and she flipped over once again, the bed bouncing underneath her. 

"Did you just take a picture of me?" Rose demanded, but she knew purely from the guilty look on his face, the camera in one hand and the developing Polaroid in the other that he had.  She reached for it and he squeaked, pulling it away from her. 

"I'm going to lick it!" She swore, "Then it'll never develop!" 

"No!" He shoved her off of him and onto her back again.  She adjusted the flimsy top that she had worn (and then not worn, and then worn again) to bed the night before.  He cupped his hand gently around the picture to let it develop in the dark, the look in his eyes something rather indescribable. 

She sat up with him, looking him in the face.  "Why'd you do that?"

He mumbled something and turned away from her, a flush crawling across his face.  She grinned, knowing she had him, and laid her hands on his upper arms, leaning over to press a kiss to his bare shoulder.  "Why'd you do that?" She repeated, kissing her way across his shoulder, up his jaw, to wait just a little bit away from his lips.  

The rustle of his pajama pants against the sheets was the only indicator that he was going to do anything, and he pressed his lips against hers, hard.  She reached up to cup the back of his head with one hand, holding him close and tenderly, reminding him that she was here with him. 

He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers as he caught his breath.  She ran her hands through his hair and he smiled a little, a good sign for the morning.  He set the old camera on the nightstand and held the picture up.  

She looked at it.  It was a simple picture of her on her side, her hair splayed out on the pillow, mascara she hadn't caught the night before flaking down her cheeks.  It was, she supposed, the natural light and the natural look of her that drew him, but the way her lips were slightly parted and her chin tilted made her wrinkle her nose. 

"Ew," she said softly, flopping back down on the bed. 

He furrowed his brows and looked between her and the picture.  "What?" He looked at the picture once more and set the picture on the nightstand before crawling over her, his hands on either side of her head.  Slowly, to maintain his balance, he lifted one hand and trailed it along down her side.  "Rose, you are beautiful.  Absolutely beautiful."

"I haven't a speck of makeup on and I was _sleeping,"_ she giggled, but she remembered her mum always saying that when a man compliments you and you want him to keep doing so, you thank him.  So she reached up and cupped his cheeks with both hands.  "But I'm glad you think I'm beautiful.  Thank you."

He preened a bit at her easy taking of the compliment and swooped in to kiss her again, leisurely exploring her mouth until neither of them could breathe, even him with his respiratory bypass.  He kissed down her neck and sucked at her collarbone, muttering words into her skin. 

"Beautiful, lovely, _gorgeous,_ stunning, perfection..." The litany of affection warmed her heart and she felt a pleasant flush light her skin. 

Deciding reciprocation was in order, she flipped him over with one twist of her leg over his unsuspecting hips so that she was on top, her hands on his chest.  He looked startled but settled his hands on her waist, tapping his fingertips on her and bouncing her lightly.  He hummed happily and she laughed. 

"Handsome," she started, leaning in to nibble at his earlobe.  She was a bit uneasy, as this was not something they had really done before, this easy confession of how they felt for each other.  Even though her mind forced those three words to bubble in her throat, she pushed them back down rather violently.  "Blindingly sexy, kind, _mine,"_ she punctuated the final one with a bite to his neck that made him whimper. 

"Yours."

She sat up, never having heard that word from him, and certainly not in such a way.  His abdomen flexed and he brought himself up, settling himself up against the headboard, bringing her with him so they were nearly nose to nose.  

"Yours," he whispered again, laying his hand over her heart. 

She smiled at him, enjoying this blatantly disgustingly cheesy exchange they were having.  She reached out and pressed her hands over both his hearts.  "Yours."

He grinned widely and picked up the picture from the nightstand.  "In every sense of the word, you are captivating.  You and I, Rose, we were meant to be like this."

"I rather think so."

"I love you," he looked shocked as soon as the words left his mouth, and he started stuttering and wouldn't look at her.  She smacked her hand over his mouth and raised her eyebrows at him. 

"You daft man, I love you too."


End file.
